Sex, Lies and Midnight. Tawny WeberЧитать онлайн книгу.
was time to reel her back.
“Those buttons you’re pushing are trouble. Give me a good crime to solve any day over anything that involves women.”
Tobias sighed, knowing he was treading a dangerous line.
“There’s no other way. I want Maya home, and the only way she’s going to return is if she thinks she’s saving me from repeating a huge mistake.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game. You want to con your kids, do it after we’ve figured out who is trying to set you up.”
“No game worth playing doesn’t carry an element of danger,” Tobias returned with a wicked laugh. “And the ball is already rolling. I can’t stop it now.”
“But you didn’t plan for these stakes when you started. You just wanted your kids home. Now you’re fighting for your reputation, your freedom and possibly your life.”
Tobias looked out the window at the holiday lights twinkling merrily, making the view of Black Oak almost magical.
“If it reunites my family, even those stakes are worthwhile,” he declared.
“You’d just better hope they aren’t reuniting for your sentencing hearing.” There was a pause, then a deep sigh. “Or if the rumblings I’m hearing are correct, at your funeral.”
1
THERE WAS NOTHING like a short, glittery skirt, long legs encased in smoky stockings and spiked do-me heels to make a man sit up and take notice.
And Simon Barton considered it his duty to watch this particular woman currently shimmying her hips rhythmically on the dance floor. The investment firm’s holiday party was in full swing, complete with barely dressed women, many soon-to-be-regretted-when-sober PDAs, an open bar and a lush buffet.
For a people watcher, this party was better than the circus, juggling clowns and—Simon noted one guy slipping his hand down the dress of the sloshed woman draped over his lap—a porno flick, all rolled into a single package.
But he only had eyes for one woman.
Not because she was gorgeous. Although she was.
Long black hair fell in curls almost to the tiny waist of a vivid green dress that had as much sparkle as her hips had personality. The fabric hugged a body made to bring grown men to their knees, long sleeves and a high neck giving the illusion of modesty at odds with the sexy placemat that passed for a skirt. Legs way too long for such a petite body were encased in smoke black stockings leading all the way down to a pair of strappy sandals so high, Simon could only wince.
The woman was fascinating.
Not because she seemed to have this knack for making herself invisible, despite her striking looks. Although she did. Every time one of, from what Simon could tell were the high muckety-mucks wandered past, she shifted. Unobtrusively placing another dancer, diner or chit-chatter between her and the higher-ups.
And not because she was a puzzle. Although, oh yeah, she was. One he was sure he’d solve. Sooner or later.
Because she was the key to his future.
He felt, rather than heard, his cell phone ring in the pocket of his slacks.
His gaze still locked on the overblown beauty on the dance floor, Simon pulled out his phone. He glanced at the readout, grimaced, then stepped into a quiet corner where his view was unimpeded, but the sound was muted.
“Barton.”
“I thought you were on assignment.”
“I wrapped it up. Now I’m on personal time.”
“Watching Maya Black is a personal thing for you?”
Christ. Did Hunter have eyes everywhere? Simon gave an infinitesimal wince, his eyes still on those lush hips encased in holiday green. “A man would have to be three-times dead not to have a personal reaction to watching a woman like her.”
“How’d you find her?”
“I’m a trained FBI agent,” Simon said sardonically. “An assumed name is a piece of cake.”
“You hacked her file?” Hunter’s words were matter-of-fact.
Simon shifted his eyes off the sweetly swaying hips to inspect his fingernails. “Would I do that?”
“In a heartbeat.”
Simon grinned.
Whether he knew it or not, Hunter was Simon’s mentor. The man whose career he’d used as a template for his own. Simon wanted nothing more than to climb the same ladders and spark the same attention. The Deputy Director was considered the elite of the elite. A man with a reputation for making the rules work for him, even as he worked around them. Assignment to Hunter’s department was Simon’s Holy Grail. There he’d rise through the ranks at least twice as fast as anywhere else. But Hunter’s team was so exclusive, he only brought in major players. Agents who’d made huge busts.
Busts like the Black case. Simon’s gaze wandered back to the tempting sway of Maya Black’s hips. Since it was totally inappropriate to lust after a suspect, he tried to convince his body that the surge of energy he felt at the sight of her was because she was his ticket to a major promotion.
“Why are you watching her?” he challenged, tossing the ball back in Hunter’s court.
“Who says I am? I might be watching you.”
Simon’s laugh garnered more than one appreciative female glance. Not unusual. He got a lot of looks from ladies. Sometimes he used the advantages his tall, well-built golden-boy looks offered. Other times he ignored them.
This time, he nodded at a couple of them, but shifted his weight, making it clear he wasn’t looking for more. He might not be on the job, per se, but this was all business.
“Maya Black isn’t a person of interest. You’re out of bounds.”
Simon shrugged that off. He figured boundaries were a fluid thing. He only paid attention to the ones that served him.
“She’s got a record,” he pointed out.
“Ar rest, no conviction.”
“She was guilty.”
“We don’t know that. No,” Hunter interrupted before Simon could haul out his well-worn argument, “we don’t. We have conjecture, speculation and a whole lot of circumstantial supposition.”
What they had were sloppy agents who had obviously been incompetent. Maya Black had been busted for computer invasion, breaking into the files of a well-placed businessman with a bad reputation. The case should have been open and shut, but the arresting officers had neglected to confiscate all of the computers on site when they’d brought her in. Within hours, the evidence had disappeared, the arrest compromised. Maya Black released.
Simon shook his head in disgust.
“She was running a Ponzi con with her old man and bungled it. If the agent in charge had been patient, he’d have had a solid case.”
“That’s your opinion,” Hunter said, his tone one degree colder than before. It took Simon a heartbeat to remember that the agent in charge of the Black case was Hunter’s father.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not here on official business. I’m just here, checking out the view,” he hedged, returning to the reason for Hunter’s call.
“You’re stepping on dangerous ground,” Hunter warned.
“I live for danger.” That wasn’t the official FBI motto, but Simon had seen enough of it in his nine years with the agency that he figured he had the right to use it as an excuse.
“Don’t die for it,” Hunter responded in typical fashion before hanging up.
Simon